Light in My Darkness
by Mother Nature's Daughter
Summary: “Don’t try to fix me, Jack. I’m not broken.” Oneshot: Kate questions the reason for Jack's attention. After all, how can she be certain she's not just another thing to fix? Jate friendship.


**Author's Note:** Jate fics, yay! Fun stuff. Yes, sir, my very first Jate-y type fic. Unfortunately, it's kinda of "deep" and "meaningful". Well, maybe not really, but it's certainly not the light and fluffy stuff I like. Oh, well. (P.S. Yeah, the repetitive "and's" in this are intentional. There could be a reason for it, but I don't have one.)

**Disclaimer:** … 0.0

**Another Author-like Note:** My second _Lost_ fic, this is. My first one was more fun and light than this one, but that's okay. I have other oneshot fics for this dear fandom, too, and after the posting of the first fic and now this one, they're all very excited to come out and say hi. I adore this fandom—Losties are the best!

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**"Light in My Darkness"**

The day had started out beautiful, the sun was shining so bright, smiling against the striking blue of the sky; the weather was so fair that day that the people sharing it could almost forget they were stranded on an island without anyone being able to find them. But then it had begun to rain; not a light drizzle, but a downright pouring rain, drenching everything in mere moments. And it became much harder to remember any good things.

This drastic change in weather happened so suddenly, like it always seemed to on this island, that the woman sitting there on the beach hadn't even realized she was getting wet until she was already soaked. But she didn't move from her spot sitting cross-legged in the sand; the rain would stop soon, and if it didn't, then the sky's tears could mix pleasantly with her own today.

She'd gone a bit away from camp to have a moment or two alone, just to watch the waves against the sand, watch the clouds against the sky, sitting silent, not speaking, not thinking. She had done a lot of that lately, and right now her mind seemed too numb to think anything, and all she wanted to do was sit in the sand. She had been having a hard time these recent days, and all her inner and outer demons kept leaping up from the darkness when ever she least expected it. Just like the weather on this island, her days had turned into night, her sunshine into rain, before she even knew what was happening.

In the short time she had been sitting here, she had, against her will, remembered just about every terrible thing that's ever happened to her. She was just having one of those moments where you had to be sad, where you had to be alone, and you had to cry—and so that's what she did, because a real hard cry could be good for you sometimes.

And then when the heavens opened up and shared in her grief, she didn't really see the point in moving, not really. She would just sit here and get wet, and let the rain wash away all her past problems. It would drown out her demons and leave nothing but space, space in her heart to live, to laugh, to love…

"You're getting soaked, sitting out here," a voice said from behind her, and she needn't turn around to see who it was, because she knew right away that it was him, that he had seen her sitting out here alone in the rain, and came to see what was up. He sat down beside her, unworried, smiling at her, until he noted the look on her face, and he could see that she had been crying, and that the wetness of her face was not merely rain, and he grew concerned.

"Hey," he said, "don't worry. It's okay." And even though she hadn't even looked once at him or acknowledged his presence at all, and even though he had no idea in the world the reason for her tears, he without hesitation wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders, keeping her close to him, so that she seemed to fit perfectly into his embrace. And despite the fact that he had sat in the rain just like she had, and was just as wet as she was, his body seemed to her as warm and comforting as she could have hoped for.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he said quietly into her soaking hair, seeing as how her head was resting in the crook of his arm; she did not answer, but yet she did not pull away. And he gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze in understanding, and it calmed her. She felt that if she could just close her eyes, through the night and the fear she would see him there, tiny but growing, a light in her darkness.

But then when she did close her eyes, she was met by only darkness and black, and she couldn't see him there anymore, and the cold rain seemed to fall colder. Startled, she leapt from his side and stood up, and her sudden movement brought him to his feet too, but while he stared at her worried, she turned her back to him. "Go," she said, "just go, please."

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, and it wasn't harsh or stubborn, having neither the tone of a command or order; rather, it was the sweet sound of reassurance, a promise. "I'm here, and I can help you. Let me help you."

"No," she said, and his words seemed to rile her instead of calm her. She turned now to face him, defiance in her eyes that flashed in the darkness, and she now looked at him, just as sopping and wet as she probably seemed to him. "I don't need you to help me. I'm just fine alone."

"You sure don't act it," he said, "just tell me what's wrong and we can fix it, Kate." And when he spoke her name while looking pleadingly into her eyes, she felt her anger waver, but it was strong and intact again a moment later. She crossed her arms, and returned his stare with a hardened gaze of her own. "We can fix it," he repeated, and then she understood.

"_Don't_ try to fix me, Jack. I'm not broken."

The rain fell harder. The wind jerked so angrily it whipped her drenching locks of hair around to sting her cheeks. They had to shout now to be heard, even though only a couple steps separated them; nonetheless he had obviously understood what she had said, because he looked now as if she'd just cut into him with a knife. Then followed one, long, drawn-out moment, where her heart lurched to her throat and pounded painfully, whether with regret or excitement she did not know, where she was certain she'd finally driven him back, that he would turn now and go and leave her alone in the rain.

But then her desperate, beating heart ceased to pound, and instead it did nervous skips about in her chest, because he had not turned and left, but taken a step forward. Her mind responded immediately with an order to her legs, telling them to take a step back away from him as he advanced. But they did not obey, and she found herself immobilized where she stood, waiting now to see what he would do next. It was impossible to read his face when he next spoke, and she couldn't tell if he was angry or afraid; disheartened or determined; hurt or insulted.

"Is that what you think?" he said, and it seemed to her that his voice was low and angry, made worse by the loudness of it over the rain. "Hmm? That I'm only here because you're—you're _broken_, because you're _damaged_?" As he spoke in this weather where he had to shout, he came closer, until he stood right in front of her, very close to her indeed. His intense gaze captured her in it, and she found that she couldn't break its bonds. She could merely look back up at him, and through the sheets of rain she could tell he was far from being done talking, and yet it was many, many moments before he spoke again.

"Let me tell you something, Kate," and then his tone had changed from that of anger to that of hurt, emotional pain from deep inside; and it was much harder to hear him now that he was not shouting over the rain; "you're wrong. You've never been more wrong, if that's what you think. If you think that I'm here because you're something I can _fix_, some—some _thing_ I need to make all better, you're wrong, Kate. You're very wrong."

And now she saw in his eyes how hurt he was, and how insulted he felt, that she could possibly believe any of that; and as she stood there, looking at him look at her, reading his eyes, she wondered what he was reading in hers. Could he see how his words were affecting her? Could he see that she was scared; could he read the real reason why she had tried to send him away? In case he could, she dropped her head, changing her gaze from his to that of looking at the way her toes sunk down in the sand. She could say nothing; he had silenced her with his words, perhaps in shame, perhaps in anger, she could not tell. And as she stood there like this, she noted that her hair was not whipping about and her skin didn't feel as cold. The rain was lightening up; falling slowly now as if it were too tired to go any faster.

"Look at me," he said, though it was more a plea than a command; and he said it softly, but she could still hear him now that the rain had slowed; "please, Kate, look at me." And he put a few fingers underneath her chin, and gently tilted her head up, and she allowed him to do this, so that her head was level with his again. But she could not look him directly in his eyes for as long this time, and instead just flickered them upwards toward him for but a second before staring at his shoulders and focusing her mind on the fact that even though her head was no longer facing downward, he had not removed his hand from underneath her chin.

"I'm not here because I think you're broken," he said, and this time his tone was more like his normal self; it was soft and gentle and kind, and filled her with a tranquillity she could not fully understand. "I'm here because you're here." And the hand that was under her chin moved up to affectionately brush some of the wet hair back from her face, and about the time he was doing this, the rain slowed even more and then ceased all together. She looked up once more to stare into his eyes a final time. She was filled with so many feelings at one time now, the most dominant being the urge to tell him she was sorry. But she stayed silent too long, and he in the silence concluded his short speech quiet simply, still stroking her hair as he spoke.

"You're hurting, Kate, and that's why I'm here. Because I care about you, and I can't stand to see you like this."

And as he finished the last words, he reached out and pulled her into him, like he did when he had first came to sit beside her. And she did not fight him in the slightest; but rather welcomed the embrace far more than she had last time, and once again marveled out how she seemed to fit perfectly into his arms; and as they stood there like this, she at first looked for the words to tell him she felt the same about him, but words didn't come to her, and instead she just buried her head into his chest, and closed her eyes. And this time when she closed her eyes, she did not see the terror of night, or feel the cold loneliness; but rather the warmth of day—and there he was, her safety net, the light in her darkness.


End file.
